


Do not forget that you are a disciple. Do not forget that I am the Master

by MagnusKervalen



Category: Krabat | The Satanic Mill - Otfried Preußler
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnusKervalen/pseuds/MagnusKervalen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I cannot change anything - I only stand on the sidelines and watch, because in the end, our whole life boils down to these simple words: "Do not forget that you are a disciple. Do not forget that I am the Master".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do not forget that you are a disciple. Do not forget that I am the Master

**Author's Note:**

> Translated from Russian by Yubari (aquila_black)

\- Why are you standing there? Come on, - Petar pokes me painfully in the ribs with his elbow. I flinch and trudge behind him. The mill is a blurred black spot darkening the backdrop of a dull sky; we’re surrounded by the damp, outdoors smell of rain, and I wrap myself more tightly in my cloak, feeling cold to the bone. What a strange spring this year ...

One more Easter Sunday. The oxen yoke hangs at the entrance to the mill; out of habit, I lean forward and pass under it, muttering words that now seem meaningless to me - I almost do not realize that I’m saying them: "I submit to the yoke of the Arcane Brotherhood." I walk into the hall and stop in front of the Master, without raising my eyes - I see only his boots; lately I try not to look at him, because I'm afraid that I'll betray myself. The other journeymen have already started to suspect something, and I do not want to give them another reason to hate me. My position at the mill is already worse than ever, even that fool Juro sees fit to nag and he’s the only one who’s beneath me. And if they find out ... I involuntarily shudder at the thought.

I barely feel the slap, I barely hear the powerful voice of the master pronouncing the unchanging words "Do not forget that you are a disciple. Do not forget that I am the Master". I almost falter before answering in the accustomed way, "Master, I will obey you in everything, now and forever." I try to dissociate from what is happening and drown myself in the sweet thrill that rises somewhere deep in my body when I see the Master, when his scent hits me, when I feel his hard stare. Now his voice is so different from its intermittent whisper; from what he said to me in the dark, ardent nights of my illusory happiness, when it belonged to me. When I was fooling myself that he belonged to me.

I quietly go my way and stop at a respectful distance, unable to find the strength to leave immediately. I watch as the other journeymen humble themselves under the yoke. The Master repeats his phrase in a monotone - and receives the expected answer, over and over, always the same thing. ... Now that my face is hidden in a shadow, I can look at him properly, and something in me contracts, sickly sweet, when I skirt his gaze as he regards my tall, thin frame. The naive hope that he would call me in the night flickers to life in my heart.

It all started a year ago. I remember that warm autumn, the gold sunlit woods, cheerful splash of water, grass strewn with fallen leaves - purple to green ... it was a precious moment, I was happy. On that day, for some reason the Master decided to tell us about how, long ago, as a young man, he killed his best friend; "I had to kill him," - he said, "every one of you would have done it in my place," - he said. The other journeymen stared at each other in disbelief; on their faces you could read: "only a monster like the Master would be capable of that." But I did not exchange surreptitious looks with them, did not listen to their whispering ... because that day I suddenly perceived the Master a different way - not just as a sinister, demonic, servant of the Devil, as all his journeymen see him, but also as a real person who lived and made mistakes. I remember how it astonished me to see his suffering, his face contorted. It caused such an impression that I did not leave with the others, when the Master told us to get out.

I stood in front of his desk and murmured something to the effect that I wanted to help him. Until right then, it would never have occurred to me to offer assistance to the Master, a powerful sorcerer who could send me straight to hell with just his gaze; but something had changed - with me, in me - and I confidently believed that I could be of use. I could comfort him ... maybe. The Master suddenly clutched my hand and began to speak, choking on his words, looking at me as if he did not see me ... As if he saw in my place someone else. I hardly understood it – I was stunned and frightened by this sharp change in our terrible host. My consciousness retained only snatches of the conversation – he was confused, fearful, full of despair because he’d loved him, he would never have intentionally caused him harm, and he could not help having done it ... I think I did not resist when he suddenly began to kiss me – only now he really was seeing me, my face, eyes, hair, hands – and whispering that I was like his dead friend, so much like him ... I was really scared, I could not understand why the Master was doing this. He pressed me to him as if he was afraid that I would disappear, and kept repeating: "Jirko ... My love, Jirko ..." I do not remember what I did then – I probably just stood there, not daring to move, not even daring to breathe; but then he abruptly pulled away and looked at me as he always had before. The Master once again became a master; He pushed me away – I only realized as he did this that I’d dared to hug his neck – and he grabbed me by the collar and threw me out of the room. He created distance as if nothing had happened.

After that day, I was not myself. I could not understand what had happened, but every night I dreamed of kissing the Master, and I could not look at him without thinking of his arms and a hot whisper. Even in his command voice, the one he used to give us orders, I heard the other voice that whispered that he loved me. I thought it would never happen again. And again and again my mind would return to the recollection - I must have looked like a man who admired his only treasure, knowing that it would soon be taken away. The other journeymen taunted: "Lyschko fell in love with the Master"; to them that seemed very offensive ... But I really fell in love with the Master.

One night, I felt that I was being led by magic. Before, the Master never imposed that spell on me - I already implicitly fulfilled all his orders. I was gripped by panic – I thought that the Master intended to kill me so that no one would know about his weakness. I got out of bed and stiffly followed him, manipulated by force, as he dragged me somewhere. Suddenly, as things happen in dreams, I was in a dark room - as I was a long time ago, on the night when I became an apprentice of the Black Miller of Koselbruch. Red candle, black book. Dark man with a pale face. Icy hand on my shoulder ... the hoarse voice: "And here you are. Finally."

I shuddered, everything in me was compressed – I did not know fear or that strange feeling, painful and intoxicating that tormented me on sleepless nights ...

\- Master ... - I whispered - my voice refused to obey me, it seemed strange, unfamiliar.

\- Shut up – he ordered brusquely and took my hand with his left hand. We were going somewhere, and I thought that our way was so long that soon the day would dawn, and the fear in me began to grow ... Finally the sorcerer stopped, turned to me, and I saw that he was smiling - and it was terrifying, worse than anything I’d seen in the mill in all that time ... He sat down on the bed, pulled me to my knees - I cried out quietly and did not recognize my voice. In the Master’s hands were a pair of scissors; He gently took my hair and cut it - strand by strand; the locks tickled my neck as they fell towards my knees and the floor. Then the Master lay down his scissors, took me by the chin and spent some time staring at me, assessing his work - now my hair barely covered my ears; He patted me on the head and smiled again, and this time I smiled back at him. He ran his hand down my cheek, his thumb outlined my lips – I opened my mouth slightly, tasting it; He took my hand and gently whispered something to me – in the excitement I could not understand a word. Emboldened, I embraced the Master, I clung to him all over, touching even through the fabric of his shirt, which was cold, and drunk on my own audacity, I clumsily kissed him on the lips ... He did not repel me - on the contrary, he responded so passionately that I was frightened and tried to escape, but he held me tightly again and whispered something to calm me ... I closed my eyes and yielded to his affection; he gently put me on the bed, and I suddenly felt that my clothes were gone - his hands caressed me everywhere, and after a few moments, I was trembling beneath his touch, unable to contain moans. And he was still smiling and kissing my face, looking at me like no one had ever looked at me. I was hassled as a boy for being unmanly. Not - "My Happiness" - he whispered, and this whisper made me dizzy. - "My love, my life, Jirko! …" I hugged him tighter, eager to belong to him, though I did not know yet how this would happen; and he caressed me and looked and looked, not looking away, as if he could not stop looking. And then something happened, and I cried out long and loud in pain, but the Master again whispered that he loved me and would never hurt me. Now that would be good; he dried my tears with his lips, and I believed it, I believed him – I believed as sincerely as if I’d never doubted in my life. And soon I was crying again - but this time with happiness; and he pulled me to him and said that now he would never let me go.

I left at the first light. More than anything, I was afraid to see that look again - puzzled, hostile, as if he did not recognize me ... or, conversely, as if he’d regrouped and thought better of it. I understood that all this tenderness, all these words, caresses and kisses were not meant for me, they were for the boy who the Master had once loved. And still loves. But it did not sadden me - on the contrary, I was almost grateful to this Jirko: because thanks to him, I Lyschko, useless and despised by everyone, became someone valued.

But autumn is long gone, in spring the storms died down, and at the mill we have a new apprentice - everything has changed. Here he is standing in front of the Master - sturdy, honorable, so desperately beautiful and fearless as he looks straight at our host - something that I never dared. He did not even flinch from the slap, and in his voice saying, "I will obey you," there is no hint of resignation. I see that the hand of the Master trembles when Krabat passes him. Perhaps the Master does not yet know that this bold apprentice means to become his equal. Or realize that the ghost of Jirko that he saw in me pales and disappears, compared to Krabat - so brave, so honest, so rebellious. Krabat is not like the others ... and he’s not like me. But as I stand in the shadows, I watch my fragile happiness dying. This young man unwittingly destroys my life, and it breaks and crumbles like the bones our millstones grind at night.

I cannot change anything - I only stand on the sidelines and watch, because in the end, our whole life boils down to these simple words: "Do not forget that you are a disciple. Do not forget that I am the Master".


End file.
